A Particular Circumstance (10 page)

‘Brown, introduce me to all here, if you please.’

The voice, though soft and almost feeble, was yet so compelling and full of authority that Jane Grayson and her daughters were each unable to take their eyes off him.  

‘Sir Benjamin, may I present to you Mrs Jane Grayson, and her daughters, Miss Charlotte Grayson and Miss Kitty Grayson. You may perhaps have some recollection of Mrs Grayson – Saunders, as she then was – who resided here until her marriage?’  

‘Hardly, hardly, I am afraid, Brown,’ sighed Sir Benjamin, sinking into the armchair which Adam Brown pulled forward for him. ‘Although, now I come to look at the eldest girl….
Yes … I have a recollection of you, Mrs Grayson … you must have been very like her, my dear.’ He sighed again and surveyed Charlotte carefully from under his bushy white brows. It was a keenly searching glance that lingered over her beautiful, proud young face, passed over her slim body and paused at her dainty satin slippers and then up again to the brilliant grey-green eyes which met his own so fearlessly.

Hugo Westbury had remained standing and, although feigning indifference, was watching Sir Benjamin’s reaction to Charlotte Grayson with interest.

‘Please be seated,’ Jane Grayson said and there was a moment’s activity as her daughters and the visitors disposed themselves about the room.

Adam Brown cleared his throat and said, ‘I have taken the liberty of inviting Mr Harry Bunfield to join us today, ma’am. He is staying at The Brook in the village and I think he will be invaluable in helping us with our enquiries into the sad death of Mr Charles Westbury.’

No one spoke. Sir Benjamin merely nodded, his face expressionless and everyone present appeared to be waiting for some guidance from the lawyer.

Matthew King moved to sit by Charlotte in the window. There was an expectant pause.

At that moment, Robert appeared once more to announce, ‘Mr Harry Bunfield from Bow Street, ma’am,’ before retiring once more.

Bunfield was a powerfully built man in his early forties, a neat and tidy person with crisp white collar and trim blue coat, his boots polished to perfection, and he carried a short staff with a discreet crown at the end, as a symbol of his authority. His eyes, as he surveyed the room, were as bright as the buttons on his red waistcoat and were of a glittering blue.

‘Your servant, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said and gave a bob of his head, halfway between a nod and a bow.

Jane Grayson indicated a seat for him and Adam Brown
opened the proceedings with greetings for Bunfield and further introductions. ‘Well now, Mr Bunfield,’ he said. ‘We would very much like to hear your report concerning the recent ghastly discovery at Westbury Hall.’

‘Mr Brown, sir, the Felbrook constable attended the
preliminary
inquest held at The Swan in King’s Lynn on 18 August when Mr Bates declared a provisional verdict of “Murder by person or persons unknown”. Further evidence will have to be gathered and presented to the examining magistrate if the culprit is ever to be identified.’

He took out a somewhat battered notebook and read from it. ‘“From enquiries already carried out, the body has been identified as that of Mr Charles Westbury, youngest brother to Sir Benjamin and grandfather to Mr Hugo Westbury, who died of a fatal stab wound to his back, delivered with some force, if the coroner’s surgeon is to be believed.”’

‘How shocking,’ Jane Grayson murmured.

‘Shocking indeed, ma’am.’

‘And there is no doubt as to the identity of my
grandfather
?’ Hugo Westbury spoke very quietly. ‘And yet, we, my parents, that is, were led to believe that my grandfather and his wife had perished on the
Golden Maiden
in a terrible storm off the coast of Cromer, notorious for the sandbanks which lurk beneath the waters.’

‘There seems no doubt of the identity of the deceased, sir, but I shall be making further enquiries there.’

He turned to Sir Benjamin, whose frail shoulders seemed to be drooping more than ever. ‘They were on their way to Holland, as I understand it, sir?’

‘Yes. The child, Hugo’s father, was left with his nurse, but I know not the purpose of their voyage.’

‘It was to sell some diamonds, Sir Benjamin.’ Harry Bunfield spoke quietly, but took note of Sir Benjamin’s
deliberately
blank expression. ‘And the contemporary reports of the sinking of the
Golden Maiden
state that not all the
passengers
and crew were accounted for. There is no record of Mr 
Charles Westbury’s body being recovered, so he was lost, presumed drowned, but I expect you knew that, sir?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Sir Benjamin said reluctantly. ‘At the memorial service for my brother and his wife, hers was the only coffin.’

There was a silence, broken again by Harry Bunfield. ‘There were two other known survivors, sir, and they were Mr Tobias Todd, a tutor from Lynn Grammar School, and a young sailor, name of Ted Rudkin, and happen if they’re still alive, I shall definitely pay them a visit, Sir Benjamin.’

Adam Brown passed across to Hugo a small roll of velvet fabric containing the signet ring and the battered silver watch. ‘The coroner has agreed to release the body for burial, sir, and has requested that I give these remaining items to you, as the next of kin.’

Charlotte looked curiously at Hugo Westbury, but apart from a strained whiteness round his mouth, he gave no sign of any of the shock and horror that Mr Bunfield’s
investigations
had produced.

Sir Benjamin seemed to have shrunk even smaller and his shoulders were more bowed than ever. He sighed as he spoke. ‘Alas, my poor dear brother, Charles. He was the youngest and most handsome of us … the most loved … the most blessed. He shall in due season be honourably interred with his dear wife in the family vault. Hugo will make the funeral arrangements.’

It was at this point that Jane Grayson rang for Phoebe, who brought in wine and refreshments. Jane noticed the way that Charlotte had looked so intently at Hugo Westbury and,
without
appearing obvious, she positioned herself near to him, offering him a glass of red wine and saying in a voice of utmost concern, ‘I am so sorry that you should have had such a sad shock at your homecoming, sir. Please accept my condolences.’

He gave her a smile of great sweetness. ‘Thank you, ma’am. But these things happen and at least he may be given a Christian burial.’

With her skill as a good listener and receiver of confidences, Jane Grayson remained silent and looked at him so
sympathetically
that he was moved to add, ‘I have no recollection of my grandparents and my mother and father both died young, so it is not so devastating an experience as it could have been.’

Jane Grayson took the liberty of pressing his hand in silent commiseration and tactfully signalled to Phoebe to refill his glass. What an attractive and sensitive young man. What a pity there seemed to be so much animosity still between himself and dear Charlotte. She looked across at her eldest daughter and could tell by the carefully composed expression of indifference on her face that Charlotte had listened to every word of the conversation and Jane smiled to herself. Perhaps, she thought, Matthew was not, after all, the right one for Charlotte…. She looked speculatively at her beautiful,
spirited
elder daughter and then back to the darkly handsome Hugo Westbury. What an attractive couple they would make, to be sure.

Hugo, also acutely conscious of the beautiful Miss Charlotte Grayson, looked across at her over the rim of his wine glass. She was listening respectfully to something Sir Benjamin was telling her and her lovely head was bent towards him, so she could catch what his thin old voice was saying. She offered Sir Benjamin a ratafia biscuit and refilled his sherry glass. All this was done with the utmost kindness and solicitude. What a contrast to her usual confrontational attitude, Hugo thought. She looked so beautiful and womanly, he was forced to make a comparison between her and the insipid Aurelia Casterton, who lacked all Charlotte’s address and grace and could only gaze up at a fellow with those limpid, vacant eyes.

To the devil with his decision to stay away from Charlotte. At the next brief lull in the conversation, Hugo turned to her and said quietly, ‘The weather seems set to remain fine, Miss Grayson. Perhaps you could be prevailed upon to grant Lucy Baker’s wish and come for a ride with us on Sunday? If her
mama agrees, I thought a short ride on Gypsy, after Sunday school, perhaps?’

He made his request with such polite deference that she looked at him with suspicion. It was true he had acted the perfect gentleman all morning, but speak as you find, she thought grimly. Her memory of the arrogant way he had dealt with the lease of Westbury Hall still rankled.

He was waiting for her answer, politely patient, one black eyebrow raised in amused enquiry, then he said softly, ‘There is no need to look so serious, Miss Grayson. I am merely
inviting
you on a little outing to please the child, not a public hanging.’

‘Odious man.’ But she was obliged to smile and thought quickly of the little muslin dress she was making for Lucy. If she worked at it, she could have it finished for Sunday and that would be two pleasures for the child.

‘Well?’

‘Well, what?’

‘Well, am I going to have the pleasure of your company, Miss Grayson? If so, I shall approach Lucy’s mama for her approval.’

‘Very well, I thank you, Mr Westbury. I know Lucy has very few treats and I am sure she will enjoy it.’

‘And you, Miss Grayson?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ she said stiffly.

‘Will you also enjoy it?’

She looked at him in surprise. In spite of herself, she knew she was colouring up. His eyes, incredibly blue in the
morning
light, were crinkled with amusement. She was surprised at allowing herself to be talked into this proposed treat for little Lucy Baker so easily. But of course, from the first, it had been impossible to deny Hugo Westbury anything that he really wanted. She wondered ruefully if it would always be thus, but she answered coolly enough, ‘I hope to do so, sir. And Lucy’s enjoyment will be most important, of course.’

‘Of course.’ He said it without a trace of irony.

‘Very well, then, we are agreed. Sunday at three outside the church, unless Mrs Baker refuses permission, of course.’ She kept her voice light and smiled, knowing Mrs Baker would be only too pleased for Lucy to have such a treat. Then she excused herself politely to go and chat to Adam Brown, who was standing with Harry Bunfield, still discussing the
shipwreck
of the
Golden Maiden.

Hugo turned towards Kitty and enquired politely how she did, and praised the smooth way that the house move had been effected by the two girls and their mother. Kitty tried valiantly to keep her end up, but was somewhat overawed by him and faltered in her replies, until she was rescued by Sir Benjamin, who, raising himself painfully from his armchair and leaning heavily on his stick, came to say that he and Hugo must be going and to bid farewell to them all.

It seemed almost impossible to settle down to some sewing again, but Charlotte at least had an incentive now and took up the little dress that she was making for Lucy with the intention of finishing it by Sunday. It was a white muslin with a pale blue dot, made from a piece of material in Jane Grayson’s fabric box. She knew it would suit Lucy’s blonde prettiness to perfection and she planned to take it round to the cottage as soon as it was finished so that Lucy might wear it as her Sunday best.

All was peaceful until such time as Uncle Bertram arrived, beautifully dressed as was his wont, and as always more than ready to do justice to the ample dinner served up by Mrs Palmer.

‘Although, as you see, ’tis a bit of a force pot,’ she declared as she set the steaming dishes on the table.

But Uncle Bertram waved her apologies away most affably. Not only was he being treated with the kindness and
consideration
that was usual from Jane Grayson, but the news of Sir Benjamin’s visit added a decided stimulus to his already inflated feeling of self-importance. Bolstered up by a most substantial meal and several glasses of mellow port wine, he 
took up his customary stance in front of the drawing-room fire and prepared to hold forth to his captive audience. He was determined to inform Jane and her daughters of the procedures to be followed when an inquest was arranged. Jane’s efforts to avoid this melancholy subject were in vain. Although she tactfully sent Kitty and Charlotte on a couple of tasks to try to get them out of the room, while their uncle proceeded to discourse at length on the unsavoury details of the murder, he refused to take the hint. When the girls returned, he was still in full flow about the inquest.

‘Bates is the county coroner, you know, Jane, and he routinely holds inquests in public houses.’

Jane was silent and Bertram took this as a sign that she was interested in the macabre subject.

‘Good idea, really,’ he continued. ‘There needs to be a room, you see, where the body can be laid out and where it can be viewed by the jurors. I know the landlord at The Swan is always happy to oblige – the jurors always need drinks and refreshments after their unhappy ordeal. I suppose Bates called Dr Armstrong to view the body, but from what you have said, there was no doubt precious little of it left to view and of course Armstrong will have been paid his expenses. A sorry business, my dear, but, still, Bates will have had to assign a cause of death. I wonder when the funeral will be?’

Kitty shuddered and said that she hoped it would not be until after Ann West’s betrothal party. Uncle Bertram said pompously that these important family occasions took some time to organize. There were important people to be contacted. Distant, even far-flung relations who must be given notice and opportunity to attend the ceremony. The family vault would have to be prepared, accommodation made ready at Westbury Hall. A thousand and one things would be required to be organized by Sir Benjamin’s
great-nephew
in preparation for the obsequies of his grandfather, Charles.